


Cookie Dough and Twinkies

by ShibaScarf



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fever, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mostly Gen, Sickfic, light slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 14:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5789434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShibaScarf/pseuds/ShibaScarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A belated Xmas gift for my lovely friend Sofa.</p><p>College AU in which Ted is from the future instead of Booster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cookie Dough and Twinkies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gayreclinetime](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gayreclinetime/gifts).



“Booster, I think I’m dying.”

Booster looked up from his LBJ biography and rolled his eyes. 

“You’re not dying, Ted,” he told his roommate for the fourth time that evening.  “You have a fever.  You’re sick, but you’re definitely not dying.”

“I’m dying,” Ted insisted from underneath a mountain of blankets.  “I’ve never been this sick in my life.  My head is killing me.”

Booster sighed, scooted away from his desk, and walked over to feel Ted’s forehead. 

“You do feel a little warmer,” he said, frowning.  “Take your temperature again.”

Ted obediently removed one arm from his blanket pile to pick up the thermometer from the floor by his bed and place it in his mouth.  Booster patiently stood nearby and waited, Ted staring up at him with owlish blue eyes.

Ted was Booster’s first and only roommate in his college experience so far, but Booster was already convinced (even after only a few months) that he was probably one of the strangest people to room with on campus.  For one thing, he looked strange.  The kid was short and skinny as hell, and this wasn’t helped by the fact that he insisted on wearing thick tinted glasses that made his eyes look enormous on his thin face.  Add on top of that the thick unruly mop of auburn hair and Ted’s tendency to go a little too long without blinking, and the whole effect was unnerving.  Now, though, with his glasses off and his awkward body hidden under several comforters, Ted looked sort of like a sick burrito.

The physical oddities, however, were really dwarfed by the personality quirks.  Ted was, as far as Booster could determine, something of a compulsive liar.  He constantly made bizarre claims about his hometown, such as saying that most people didn’t get vaccinations, even though he said he came from Chicago.  He was known to be something of a wunderkind in the electrical engineering department, but Booster had, for a fact, witnessed him struggle to use the microwave correctly.  He had a fierce kind of intensity to his gaze whenever talking to Booster, almost as though he was expecting to be judged on his ability to pay attention.  Ted supposedly came from a rich family, and yet he would wear clothes until they were so frayed and worn that he practically looked homeless.

Finally (and this was so strange that Booster really had no idea what to do with it), Booster had actually seen Ted drink _half a carton of milk_ before realizing it had expired.  Then, when Booster had pointed this fact out in horror, Ted had paused, leaned forward and sniffed the carton, and _took another sip_ before nodding pensively and throwing the milk away.

The thermometer beeped, and Ted took it out of his mouth and groaned dramatically.

“101.6,” he said, wriggling deeper into the blankets.  “Booster, I’m really dying.  This is it.”

“It’s higher than earlier,” Booster admitted, “but you’re still not dying.  Come on, Ted, don’t tell me you get like this every time you have a fever.”

“I’ve never had a fever before,” Ted said, staring up at the ceiling with glazed over eyes as if he were imagining his own funeral.  “This is my first one, and it’s going to be my last one.  Because, you know.  I’m dying.”

“Okay, cut the bullshit,” Booster said, pulling a chair over so he could sit by Ted’s side, homework now forgotten.  “Why do you always make dumb jokes like this?”

“What jokes?” Ted said, miserably.  “I’m really dying.  I’m going to die here, in this stupid dorm bed that gives me terrible back pain.”

“Jokes like saying you’ve never had a fever,” Booster said, with a roll of his eyes.  “Jokes like the time you asked me what pizza was.  I’m starting to think you’re not from Chicago at all, Ted.  Maybe you’re a Martian or something, because why else would you say all that stuff with a straight face?”

Ted’s eyes moved from the ceiling to meet Booster’s and stayed there for an intense minute.  Then, with no small amount of effort and exaggerated struggling, he emerged from his mountain of blankets and sat up.

“I’m going to tell you something I haven’t told anyone else,” he said, reaching out and catching Booster’s hand in his.  His hands, Booster noted, were sticky with sweat and just as bony as the rest of him.  “I’m only telling you this because I’m dying.”

“Okay,” Booster said slowly, tilting his head.  Where was Ted going with this?  He wasn’t sure to expect some kind of prank or a genuinely serious confession.

“I,” Ted said with grave slowness, “am a time traveler from the future.”

“Uh…huh,” Booster replied.

“I’m serious,” Ted insisted.  “I came back to this century because I thought I could become a famous inventor and make millions of dollars with my knowledge of future technology.”

“Maybe we should check your temperature again,” Booster said, reaching down for the thermometer when Ted pulled on his hand imploringly.  Booster stared at him, bewildered.

“Booster, I mean it,” Ted pleaded.  “This fever could actually kill me.  I don’t have the vaccinations or immune systems of this century.  I probably won’t make it to morning.  You have to believe me.”

“Ted, you’re scaring me now,” Booster said, standing up and pushing Ted back until he was lying down again.  “Don’t joke about this kind of stuff.  If your fever breaks 104, then we’ll take you to the emergency room, okay?  Stop pretending you’re going to die; I’m not laughing.”

He stomped back to his desk, dragging his chair behind him, and sat back down in front of his book.  It took conscious effort to ignore the dejected looks that Ted was shooting in his direction.

A few hours later, however, Ted began moaning and tossing in his sleep, which was sufficiently distracting enough to make Booster close his book and drag a chair back over to Ted’s side.

Upon closer examination, Booster was able to confirm that Ted wasn’t actually faking sleep to attract more pity.  His whole face was flushed pink, and his hair was matted down and sticky with sweat.  Booster laid one hand on Ted’s forehead and was immediately alarmed at how it burned under his skin.

The touch seemed to wake Ted up, and they stared at one another for a moment: Booster’s eyes narrowed with concern and Ted’s hazy with fever.

“Water?” Ted croaked.  Booster obligingly handed him the water bottle that was on the floor next to him.  Ted barely managed to free one hand, and Booster watched him carefully as he drank.

“We need to take your temp again,” Booster said gently, giving Ted the thermometer.  This time, it felt like an eternity before the beeping sound, each second consumed with more and more worry on Booster’s part.

The result didn’t relieve him at all.

“102.7,” Ted declared.  “What was it you said earlier?  Emergency room at 104?”

“Christ,” Booster said, chewing on his thumbnail.  “I don’t have a car, Ted.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ted said, closing his eyes calmly.  “They can’t do anything for me.  All the germs in the hospital might kill just me faster.  Not like I have health insurance anyway.”

“I have an idea,” Booster said suddenly, standing up.  “I don’t know if it’ll really help much, but it’s worth a shot.”

He carefully helped Ted out of bed, pulling the blankets around him like a lumpy cloak.  Then, he turned and grabbed two towels off the back of his closet door, draping them over the back of his neck.  Turning back to Ted, he paused, considering.  Ted swayed uneasily and looked dead on his feet.  Booster frowned, pulled the blankets off of him (ignoring the weary protests), and scooped Ted up in his arms.

Thanks to a combination of Ted’s tiny body and Booster’s football athleticism, this was relatively easy to accomplish.  Again, Booster was frightened by how Ted’s body was terribly hot, even as he was shivering and looking at Booster with mild reproach.

“What’s the idea?” Ted asked.  “Because, so far?  I’m not so crazy about the ‘being carried’ part of it.”

“Shh,” Booster said, walking over to the door and carefully shifting his grasp on Ted long enough to grab the doorknob and open the door.  “We’re going to go take a shower.”

“What is it, two in the morning?” Ted griped, burying further into Booster’s chest.  “Wait a minute, did you say ‘we’?”

“I did say ‘we,’” Booster whispered, now that they were trekking through the silent but brightly lit hallway of the residence hall.  “Like hell I’m going to leave you alone with a fever this high.  I thought maybe some lukewarm water from the shower might help you cool down.”

Ted made a sound that sounded half like a protest and half like a groan of discomfort. 

The bathroom tile was cool under Booster’s feet as they stepped into the shower hall, and Booster was immediately full of regret that he hadn’t remembered to put on his flip-flops.   Too late now.

The showers were small and square, with an equally tiny section in front of each that provided a place to change and put clean clothes, as it could be locked like a bathroom stall.  Booster set Ted down on the little shelf/bench and locked the shower stall behind him.

“Okay,” Booster whispered, hoping no one else was up this late and needing a shower.  “You’re going to have to take your clothes off.  Not everything, just down to your boxers.”

Ted, looking tiny and sad in his too-big shirt and worn pajama pants, wrapped his arms around himself and looked up at Booster reproachfully.

“I know this is pretty weird,” Booster admitted.  “I’m sorry.  Look,” he said, pulling his own shirt off.  “I have to strip down too, so it’s not that bad, right?”

“That just makes things worse,” Ted hissed back at him.  “You’re the fucking quarterback, Booster.  I look like raw cookie dough next to your stupidly perfect abs.”

“You think they’re perfect?” Booster said, looking down at himself.  “I mean, thanks.  But I’ve honestly been slacking at the gym this month, so…”

Ted was struggling out of his giant shirt and Booster’s mouth went dry at the sight of him, all bones and ribs and pale skin that did, admittedly, sort of have the overall appearance of a roll of sugar cookie dough next to his own tan.

“I like cookie dough,” Booster said, without thinking. 

Ted stared at him.

“I mean, I like you,” Booster said, tripping over his tongue.  “Shit, I mean-“

“My fever must be getting pretty bad,” Ted grumbled, bending down to shimmy his pajama pants off.  “Now I’m hallucinating.”

Where the fuck did that come from?  Booster wanted to melt into the floor.  He didn’t have a thing for his weird roommate, he told himself.  He didn’t.  Not for the guy that kept him up at night talking about what it would be like to play Ping-Pong on the moon.  Nope.  Definitely not for the guy that Booster could get to snort cereal out of his nose if he told the perfectly timed joke.

But looking at him now, all small and shivering, it was hard to not want to curl up around the guy and soothe him to sleep and whisper that everything was going to be okay and nuzzle the back of his head and-

Okay, so.  Maybe Booster had a few things to work out.

“Booster?” Ted was whispering.  “You have to take your pajama pants off too, right?”

“Um, yeah,” Booster said, shucking them off and suddenly glad that he was wearing one of his nicer pairs of boxer-briefs today instead of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles boxers that he had been wearing yesterday.  Ted was wearing white boxers with red hearts on them, because of course that nerd would.  Booster noted the hint of fondness in that last thought and promptly shoved it away.  He could figure his shit out later, after Ted’s fever went down.

If Ted’s fever went down.

Boosters stepped into the shower and turned it on, tinkering with it a bit until he reached the temperature he wanted- not exactly hot, but warm enough to keep from shivering under.  Ted watched on with skepticism.  Booster rolled his eyes and reached out to pull Ted into the shower with him, pulling the shower curtain shut behind them.

Ted shuddered all over, and Booster was alarmed until he saw the blissful grin that was spreading across Ted’s face.

“You’re a genius,” Ted sighed happily.  He swayed back and forth a little, and Booster instinctively reached out and guided Ted down to sit on the floor of the shower so that he wouldn’t fall over.

He sat across from Ted, although the tiny shower made it necessary for them to practically be sitting knee to knee, even with their legs as folded in to their chins as they could be.  Ted’s legs were hairier than Boosters and, of course, much thinner.  Booster idly watched the water pour over them for a minute before speaking.

“So, that time with the expired milk?  That was a future thing?” Booster said lightly, still not quite sure if he believed Ted’s claims or not.  The funny thing about this particular hour of the morning was that it made everything seem kind of fuzzy and unreal.  It was hard to be to be cynical in the face of such a surreal scene anyway, with the two of them crammed inside a shower stall together and streams of water pouring down their faces.

“Oh,” Ted said, not bothering to open his eyes as he tilted his head further back.  “Sort of.  I just have a laminated tongue, is all.”

“A what,” Booster said, flatly.

“A laminated tongue,” Ted repeated.  “My dad made me get it.  He thought I was eating too much, so he sent me in for the procedure.  I guess I can’t exactly have it reversed here.  It’s supposed to naturally wear off in a few years anyway.”

“So, what, you can’t taste anything?” Booster asked, horrified.  “Jesus, that’s awful.”

“Like I said, it’ll wear off in a few years,” Ted shrugged.  “And then I’ll probably get fat again.  I mean, not _fat_.  Just kind of chunky and soft around the edges.  Enough to piss my dad off.”

Booster tried to imagine a chubby Ted and was stunned to find that he quite liked the idea of it.  Part of him made a mental note to start making sure Ted was eating enough so that he’d stop looking so unnaturally thin.  Maybe if he could find food with a pleasant enough texture, Ted would eat more often.

“Anyway,” Ted said, “if Twinkies taste half as good as I imagine, I’m sure I’ll gain weight practically overnight.”

Booster laughed so hard that his stomach ached.

After about an hour of just shooting the shit, Ted started to look and sound much better, so Booster suggested they go back to their room and try to get some sleep.  They walked back through the hallway together, wrapped in towels and clutching their clothes.

Ted, of course, dropped his wet towel on the floor and crawled back into his blanket pile without even kicking off his wet underwear.  Booster had to take fifteen minutes to change and towel off properly, set away all his homework materials, and then check his email twice before settling into bed.  Thankfully, he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

He woke up to the cheerful beeping of the thermometer across the room.  Blearily, Booster sat up and turned to look at Ted. 

Ted, sitting in the sunshine from the window and wearing those enormous glasses that reflected light straight into Booster’s eyes, waved at him cheerfully from his blankets and brandished the thermometer.

“98.8,” Ted said.  “Guess I didn’t die after all.”

Booster rolled out of bed, crossed the room, and pressed on hand against Ted’s forehead.  He felt cool to the touch.

“I know I said a lot of weird things last night,” Ted said, “but it was really just the fever talking.  Thanks for humoring me.”

Booster rolled his eyes.

“Open your mouth,” he said, and Ted gaped at him.  “I’m serious.  Open your mouth.”

Hesitantly, Ted did so, and Booster gently placed his index finger on Ted’s tongue and stroked downward.  It was smooth and without surface texture, like plastic.

“Laminated tongue,” Booster said.  The room suddenly felt small and suffocating in the following silence.

“Shit,” Ted said finally.  He looked up at Booster, eyes searching his face.  “Now what?”

“Now, you have a hell of a lot of explaining to do,” Booster said sternly, and then he punched Ted lightly on the arm.  Ted flinched, which only made Booster chuckle.  “Over coffee?  I hear the library has a pretty good little café on the ground floor.”

“Yeah, okay,” Ted said slowly.  A grin spread across his face, crooked in just the right way to make Booster wonder what it would feel like to kiss someone with a laminated tongue.

Ted continued to sit in bed, smiling, as Booster got dressed and fussed with his hair in the mirror. 

“I’ll meet you there at ten,” Booster said, grabbing his coat and backpack.  “I have to finish my paper.  Rest up, roomie.”

“Sure,” Ted said.  “I’ll be there.”

“Great,” Booster said, heading out the door, before he paused and stuck his head back into the room.  “For the record, Ted?  You’re going to love Twinkies even more than you thought.”

The sound of laughter that followed him down the hall was simply perfect.

**Author's Note:**

> plz plz plz don't take any kind of medical advice from me. showers r probably not good for fevers. i just liked the imagery of it.


End file.
